


Rivière

by AdelineVW7



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Introspection, Motherhood anxieties, Post-Promised Day, Riza-centric, Unplanned Pregnancy, time skip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineVW7/pseuds/AdelineVW7
Summary: They have been shut in by a thunderstorm. She stares out the window, at the slate-colored sky, at its bountiful blessings beating into the hard, undeserving city. Suddenly she feels as if she must confess it to him now—the knowledge that has been weighing on her mind for weeks.“Roy,” she calls, without turning to look at him.There is a beat of silence, before he answers, “Riza.” She turns to him then, and in her gaze there is something of the storm outside.“I’m pregnant.”[where an unexpected development brings old wounds to light, and Riza learns how to open herself up to a changed, and changing world]
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Rivière

“Fear no more, says the heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, lets fall.”

from _Mrs Dalloway,_ by Virginia Woolf

* * *

They have been shut in by a thunderstorm. She stares out the window, at the slate-colored sky, at its bountiful blessings beating into the hard, undeserving city. Suddenly she feels as if she must confess it to him _now_ —the knowledge that has been weighing on her mind for weeks.

“Roy,” she calls, without turning to look at him.

There is a beat of silence, before he answers, “Riza.” She turns to him then, and in her gaze there is something of the storm outside.

“I’m pregnant.”

It was no scandal at all; they have been married for five years now. The news should be a joyful thing, a reason to bind them closer together. But Roy could feel a distance growing between them. There is no change in Riza’s habits—she still woke him with a kiss, and ministered to his needs, and smiled at him over their work. But the smile now had a tinge of unreality to it, a touch of illusion. There is something that lurks behind it—a nameless, speechless sorrow.

At night he sees the shape of it more clearly, as he watches her toss and turn, nightmares burning behind her closed lids. He would wrap his arms around her, trying to snatch her away from them. Trying to hold on.

But the cycle persists, and every night she grows farther than ever before.

_Where are you going, my love? Must you go there, where I cannot follow?_

An endless dessert stretches before her. A parched mouth, starved of sustenance. It hisses a harsh song; it urges her to surrender. To sink into its depths, to let the blood in her body appease its bottomless thirst. But she presses on, determined to reach the end of the shifting sands. She must persist, for the sake of the dear burden she carried—the child cradled by her flesh and bones.

An image shimmers in the distance. _Could it be trees? Could it mean water?_ She urges strength into her limbs, and heads toward that welcome mass of darkness.

But she reaches it, and finds no comfort. The break in the pattern was not a clump of trees, but a line of graves.

_Ishval._

_The fighting goes ever on, in my heart. Oh, will it ever stop?_

Riza sinks to her knees, and buries her face in her hands.

Grumman calls on her when he hears of her news. “Congratulations, child.” He smiles, and presents her with a woven doll, such as those that she played with as a little girl. The reminder of the irretrievable past gives her pause, and it takes her a moment before she could accept the gift. Her grandfather does not miss this; he continues to watch her over his cup of tea. For a long moment, no other words pass between them.

It is Grumman who breaks the silence. He observes, “You are not happy. Why is that, my darling girl?”

Riza’s hands curl into fists in her lap. There is an indignant jerk in the action. As if she wanted to rest her hands on her growing bump for comfort, but could not let herself. Grumman does not miss this.

“Could it be that you do not want this?”

“ _No.”_ Her answer is immediate. “I do. I do so want this. I have wanted this for a long time.”

“Ah,” he breathes out. His eyes grow soft with the light of old sorrows. “Then you think that you do not deserve this?”

The question stuns her once again into silence, and Grumman learns what he needed to know.

“I see.” He stands up, preparing to leave. He goes over to her, and kisses her brow. 

He is halfway to the door when he turns again, to speak an attempt at comfort. “It’s true we cannot help but judge ourselves for the things we have done. But Riza, you have to remember.” There is entreaty in his voice, and the weight of hard-won wisdom. “You cannot dwell there, my dear.”

Riza bows her head, and hears rather than sees her grandfather’s departure. When Grumman’s footsteps fade away into the quotidian noises of the afternoon, she takes the doll and clutches it to her chest. And fickle memory, with its uncertain comforts, takes her into its arms.

That night she dreams again, but it is not the starkly vivid dreams of days past. She dreams of soft colors, passing before her eyes in a slow procession. And the sound of perpetually falling rain, blessing her parched throat with its sweetness.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for this fandom. I hope you enjoyed this, and would be glad to know what you think! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. ♡
> 
> [The succeeding part/s are in the works; I hope to post them soon.]


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